Chapter 12
A few days later Gold came across Ivy Walker, just as he stepped out of Victor Bing's clinic. The young woman was sitting on a bench on the porch, sitting as still as a statue, with her head bowed and her hands folded tightly into her lap.
"Good day, Miss Walker," he greeted, intentionally keeping his voice soft. Nevertheless, she jumped in fright, her head shooting upwards to reveal a drawn, pale face, the skin underneath her eyes grey with exhaustion.
"Forgive me… Mrs Hunt, I should say. I did not mean to frighten you."
Shortly after Lucius Hunt had regained consciousness, he and Ivy had married in a very small ceremony, performed by her father and with only both of their mothers in attendance.
Now that she was married, Ivy Hunt wore her hair up in a bun, customary for married women in their village and stiffer, more concealing clothing.
"My apologies, Mr. Gold," she murmured, her voice blank. "I did not hear you."
She scrambled to her feet, holding out her cane in front of her and he held the door open for her, a thought niggling at the back of his mind.
She was already almost inside when he remembered.
"Mrs Hunt… you once told me that you could recognize me by my color."
She froze, her face contorting painfully for a moment before she looked down. "I used to see them, Mr. Gold. "But not anymore. Now there's only darkness."
His insides chilled at her words and looking at her haggard face his stomach churned at the realization that something was very deeply wrong with this once so vivacious girl.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Hunt," he told her quietly.
A ghost of a smile passed fleetingly over her face. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. I should go in now… I've come to retrieve medicine for Lucius…"
He nodded, belatedly realizing she couldn't see and started to turn away. Ivy's voice however brought him up short.
"Blue."
"Excuse me?" he rasped, haltering his movements.
"Your color was blue… when I could still see it."
She disappeared inside and left him standing on the porch, his breath coming fast.
That night Belle managed to come to his house and after they'd made love, they lay wrapped up in each other's arms in his bed, enjoying the moments that still lasted them.
In the soft light of the oil lamp on his nightstand, surrounded by the white of the sheets, her skin still flushed and warm in the afterglow and her chestnut curls fanned out over his shoulder and chest she was the more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.
Unable to stop himself from touching her for even a second, he ran his hands lightly over every inch of her, memorizing each soft curve and feeling the way her skin heat up wherever he touched her.
"My beautiful Belle," he whispered, pressing kisses to her brow, his fingers seeking out all the spots that made her moan softly and stretch against him like sleepy cat.
He was addicted to her. To her taste and kisses, to her scent and her warmth and to the way she blissfully arched into each and every touch of his hands.
"I saw Ivy today," he told her, his voice thoughtful.
A shadow crossed over her face and she sighed deeply at his words. "And how was she?"
Tapping his fingers across her spine he paused, trying to formulate his thoughts. "She seemed distressed to me…"
"Something is wrong," Belle answered softly, snuggling closer into his side. "She has not been the same since she has returned from the towns."
Hearing Belle confirming his own suspicions only increased his worry and he pulled her little closer against him.
"At first I thought she was afraid for Lucius' life," Belle continued. "But now that he's improving and out of danger it seems that she is growing more afraid with each passing day. She's taken to wearing a protective charm around her wrists and she never takes it off. She insists that Lucius' wounds remain bandaged at all times so that the forbidden color doesn't attract the creatures. I believe she fears they'll come after her again."
"She never used to be so afraid," he observed.
Against his shoulder, Belle shook her head. "Something bad happened to her when she was in the woods. Something that made her so very afraid that it is now sucking all her happiness away." Leaning up, her sad eyes met his.
"You once told me that there's nothing worse than being afraid."
"There isn't," he conceded, "I believe fear can destroy a person."
It had almost destroyed him, the paralyzing fear of what violence and heartache could do to him. It was why he and every other person in this village over the age of forty had fled the old world in a desperate attempt to find a place to be safe from it all.
And yet, as hard as they'd run, sorrow had caught up with them.
Then tender, warm fingers were carding through his hair and he looked up into the blue depths of her eyes and the softness of her smile.
"I'm not afraid when I'm with you," she told him, her hand coming to rest on his cheek.
His heart overflowed with love for her and he tangled his hand in her hair to pull her head down for a kiss.
They kissed for what felt like a lifetime, mouths fused together, bodies intertwined, safely tucked away underneath the comforting weight of the blankets and he could have stayed into that warm cocoon with her for the rest of his life, doing nothing else than kissing her, but eventually she untangled herself from him with a deep sigh.
"I need to go back," she told him, her voice heavy with regret. "I told my father I was spending time with Ivy and he will grow suspicious if I return late."
Letting her get out of the bed and watching her dress was almost physically painful for him and he distracted himself by putting on some clothes himself so that he could walk her to the door and prolong their time together for as long as he could.
Far too soon they were already descending the stairs and he helped her into her blue coat, carefully arranging her scarf around her so she wouldn't be cold.
She giggled as his fussing, the happy sound lightening the moment somewhat and she stood on her tiptoes to give him a final kiss.
"I'll try to come and see you again soon," she promised against his lips before pulling away.
His hands hung emptily in the air as she stepped away from him and reached out to open the door and he was suddenly seized with a wave of desperation.
There was no telling when he'd see her again, when they'd find an opportunity to be together again and every time she left him, it became harder to let her go.
The door was already open, but he lunged forward and pulled her back into his arms, almost crushing her body to his as he held her tightly and captured her lips, plundering her mouth with an almost frantic intensity.
Belle melted against him, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck as she responded to his kiss with equal passion.
Stumbling through the narrow hallway he backed her up against the wall, pressing himself even closer against her, grateful to have something to lean against, because his own legs barely supported him any longer.
He reached out one arm to close the door again, suddenly determined to keep her with him, all consequences be damned.
He had just found the doorknob when an outrageous scream jolted him out of his haze and caused him to break their kiss.
Reality inserted itself instantly and purely on instinct he pushed Belle behind him, still trying to close the door as a livid Maurice French stormed towards it.
He was a fraction of a second too late and French shoved the door open, his face red with fury and his eyes bulging.
"Get away from my daughter, you pervert!" he bellowed, his fist raising in the air.
"Papa! No!" Before he could stop her, Belle ducked around him and launched herself at her father, grabbing his arm with both her hands, all but hanging on it with her full weight to stop him from striking.
"That monster had his hands all over you," Maurice French raged. "He's been sniveling around you for months now!"
Loathing himself for keeping his cane upstairs so that he now had no means to protect Belle against he rage of father, Gold clenched every muscle in his body, ready to lash out the second Maurice attempted to hurt her, either with his hands or with his words.
Instead, Belle squared her shoulders and looked up her father, her face calm but determined. "Papa, I'm going home with you now and then we're going to talk about this calmly.
Her resolute manner seemed to calm him down although he still shot a poisonous look in Gold's direction. "You are never coming near my child again!" he growled.
"Papa, we're going home," Belle said once again, decisively pushing him towards the door. Over her shoulder she gave him a last look, attempting to smile at him reassuringly, but Gold's insides churned as he watched Maurice French grab his daughter possessively by her arm and all but dragged her away from him.
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